


This Is The Art Of Living With A Ticking Heart

by redbrunja



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't the first time someone had kissed Felicity to get her to shut up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The Art Of Living With A Ticking Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CyberMathWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberMathWitch/gifts).



"This guy is either evil or a robot, and frankly, I'm leaning towards robot," Felicity said, mostly to herself. She'd spent the last three days going through the electronic life of Aaron F. Young, CFO of Brookings Global, and as far as she can tell, he spent his entire life at work or at his luxury penthouse, buying designer sunglasses.  
  
"No dining out, no vacations, no non-work-related e-mails," she continued, as Oliver leaned over her shoulder. He'd just finished the salmon ladder and she could feel the heat of his muscles, smell the clean tang of his sweat. Felicity frowned, swiveled her chair to face Oliver- well, Oliver's chest and abs. Basically, it was just a lot of glistening bare skin and muscles. It was a good thing she'd gotten semi-desensitized to Oliver's hotness by this point, or she'd been in real trouble right now.  
  
She held up her tablet to illustrate Aaron F Young's suspicious life but Oliver kept looking at her face, not the screen. Was her lipstick smeared?  
  
"Spammers don't even send this guy e-mails. Which is actually pretty nice. But there is more to life than buying designer sunglasses, you know?" she continued. "And where does he wear them? He literally does not leave his workplace until the sun goes down."  
  
She tilted her head. "Maybe he's a vampire-" she started to say and then Oliver was kissing her.  
  
Oh.  
  
Wow.  
  
He was  _really_  good at that.  
  
Still not 100% convinced that this was real life, Felicity put her hands on his shoulders, stood, pressed herself close.  
  
Oliver dropped his hands to her hips, snaked one foot around her to kick her chair out of the way and guided her back to the table. They stopped kissing while Oliver kind of - was manhandled the right word?- manhandled (in this 10/10, would recommend way, not in a 0/10, about to be kidnapped way) her onto the tabletop, her legs bracketing his hips, her skirt runching up.  
  
He ran his hands up her thighs, the wonderfully rough skin of his palms and fingers dragging against her skin, stroking in a way that could, theoretically, be soothing but in actuality was making her squirm and pant. He was kissing her neck, lips soft, stubble rasping against her skin. Her head fell back and she heard herself gasp, the sound swallowed up by the high ceilings of the foundry.  
  
She could literally feel her mouth starting to shape words and Felicity had just enough wherewithal to realize that this was the moment when she was going to say something that completely ruined this, that made Oliver decide to take his wonderful mouth and his wonderful hands and his wonderful shoulders away forever.  
  
Felicity bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could.  
  
Just in time, too, because Oliver dropped to her knees in front of her and hooked his fingers around the end of her panties. She wrapped a white-knuckled grip around the edge of the table, lifted her hips to help him get her underwear off.  
  
She had just enough time to note that that today (luckily) she'd randomly picked kind of adorable white panties with a tiny bit of red edging before Oliver dropped them to the floor. And then his wonderfully hot mouth was on the inside of her knee, the inside of her thigh, and it was a damn good thing that she was biting her cheek, because her internal monologue had turned into a repetitive please-yes, please-yes, which she was sure would be super irritating if she said it out loud.  
  
She was concentrating on memorizing the exact sensation of Oliver's stubble scrapping across her inner thigh when he'd stopped. It took her a minute to blink her eyes open.  
  
"Felicity?" he asked. "Felicity, what's wrong?" He was looking up at her, focused, eyes dark and intent.  
  
She stopped biting her cheek.  
  
"Nothing," she said quickly "nothing at all!" Then she quickly clamped her mouth shut.  
  
There was this sudden, horrible, awkward silence.  
  
Oliver stood in one smooth motion, took a long step away from her. He was standing in that way he did, solid and squared off, like a ceiling could drop down on him and he could handle it.  
  
Although really, she wished she was the one who the ceiling would collapse upon. She pressed her knees together. She couldn't look at his face it was just - it was just too embarrassing. She stared at his hands, which were in fists so tight his knuckles were white.  
  
If she were poised and classy and sexy, like the women Oliver usually made out with on tabletops, she'd know exactly what to do right now to draw him back to her, but she was just her, feminine wile-less Felicity.  
  
And Oliver still didn't say  _anything,_  not like he was chatty at the best of times, and this - well, it had been the best of times two minutes ago, but now everything sucked in the totally unfun way and that damn awkward silence just  _pulled_  the words out of her.  
  
"It's just that not the first time someone's kissed me to get me to shut up," she said, bumping her glasses up her nose. "So, you know, I was just... shutting up."  
  
"I didn't kiss you to get you to stop talking," he said, and he sounded incredulous which was.. okay, clearly she was imagining that, because–  
  
"Why else would you kiss me?" Felicity said and gestured between them. "We're not–" she made this tearing motion with her hands and then gestured back and forth between them. "I have a stupid unrequited crush. You have an epic, star-crossed romance with disapproving parents and a shipwreck. A literal shipwreck, Oliver."  
  
She could have gone on, because clearly Oliver wasn't going to humanely interrupt her anytime ever, only there was the sound of the door unlocking and opening and Felicity realized that her panties were still on the floor.  
  
She lunged for them, shoved them in her purse, and was staring blindly at her tablet when Diggle came down the stairs and into sight.  
  
"Hey, Felicity, I forgot my umbrella," he said casually, clearly unaware that he was at the scene of a recent humiliation.  
  
"Hmm? Okay?" she managed, not looking up, unable to figure out what a normal response that statement would be.  
  
Diggle stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
There was the ringing clang of steel against rebar. Felicity flinched so badly that she almost dropped her tablet. Clearly, while she'd been hiding her undergarments, Oliver had poofed to the other side of the room. The clanging continued, Oliver continuing his interrupted workout with extreme prejudice.  
  
"I think I'm going to head home," Felicity said over the noise. She set down the tablet, she grabbed her purse, held it again her chest, and had to make every effort not to the run to the exit.  
  
She didn't manage to look at Diggle in the face once.  
  
As she went up the stairs, she glanced back, saw Diggle walk off towards Oliver's location, shaking his head and with a grim set to his jaw.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This Is The Art Of Living With A Ticking Heart: Podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189292) by [rashaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/pseuds/rashaka)




End file.
